Training Sessions
by Jenavira
Summary: When the Interstellar Alliance opened up membership in the Rangers to all Alliance worlds, there were bound to be some consequences...
1. Introduction: Entil'zah Veni

Entil'zha Veni

**Author's Notes:** This is me trying hard to introduce a rather complicated series...no, there are no major characters here, they come in in the Interlude. Which will be up shortly. I started planning this before B5LR came out, but thankfully, I haven't had to edit very much.

The two Minbari in this intro should seem familiar: Sindell is the head of the Ranger Council from "To Live and Die in Starlight" and Turval is the older fellow, the one leading the meditation class, from "Learning Curve". They and other canon Minbari will make appearances from time to time.

**Disclaimer:** We'll call this the disclaimer for the whole story. The original characters are only marginally mine; they just kind of show up in my head. Anyone you recognize is JMS's. Tuzanor, Minbar, and the Rangers are JMS's. I'm just...filling in the gaps.

  


* * *

  


The hall was filled wall-to-wall with recruits. Turval felt a glow of pride and accomplishment; the ranks of the Rangers hadn't been this full in centuries. Of course, opening up the Anla'shok to all of the Alliance races had probably had a great effect on that. Narns, Drazi, Centauri, even Pak'ma'ra stood shoulder-to-appendage with the more conventional Humans and Minbari as Councilor Sindell, newly appointed head of the Ranger Council, gave a slightly revised, traditional introductory speech. The official oath would be administered later, in much smaller groups.

The crowd broke out in scattered applause as Sindell concluded with the oath of the Anla'shok, "Entil'zha Veni".

Turval bowed slightly to the younger Minbari as Sindell approached him. "An impressive speech, Councilor."

Sindell snorted. "Probably identical to the one made every year at this time. You must have it memorized by now."

Turval allowed himself a small smile. "Perhaps. But I had not yet heard it from you. Quite impressive."

The two stood in silence for a while, looking out at the crowd of new Rangers-in-training, who seemed quite content to hover around the hall and make conversation. Sindell seemed disturbed. His eyes flicked over groups of recruits who seemed to have ended up separated by race; even many of the Humans and Minbari remained apart from the others.

"It doesn't seem quite right," Sindell said suddenly, "all of these different races. The Rangers have so many traditions peculiar to the Minbari - I'm not sure this will work."

Turval raised an eyebrow at him. "I recall that many said the same when Humans were first allowed among the Anla'shok."

"Yes, but that was prophecy," Sindell muttered. "This is just politics."

"We must trust that Entil'zha Delenn has taken such matters into consideration, and that she knows her position and her people." With a final bow and a significant look, Turval left the younger Minbari to reflect upon this as he himself headed for home.

Sindell was quite willing to reflect upon Turval's words, though he was not at all sure what he thought of them. Of course he had absolute faith in Entil'zha Delenn. Of course this was the best move for the new Alliance. A united galaxy was, after all, its main goal, and this was an important step toward that goal. And yet...

In the crowd of new recruits an angry voice was raised. It was followed shortly by an equally angry voice, which added some insults in a Centauri dialect. A group of Narn voices rose in concert, and Centauri...

Councilor Sindell closed his eyes in trepidation, murmuring a mantra to himself. _Entil'zha Veni._


	2. Freshmen

**Author's Notes:** There seems to be some confusion as to the house of the Centauri Regent, from the fourth and fifth seasons. JMS has said he intentionally left him without a name; Londo, in one episode, calls for "Virini" when he is searching for the Regent. I'm going to go with that.

Feedback of any and all kind is welcome, from ablutions to nigh-homicidal criticism. I'd especially appreciate any thoughts on the characters and the pacing.

Kudos to the John Hightower Adronato Dictionary, and my betas - Londo, Gok, and Elefaera. You guys rock.

* * *

Tuzanor glittered in the evening sunlight, the many prisms and crystals of the city's structure shining in every color of the rainbow. Even the dormitories of the Anla'shok, buildings that would be merely utilitarian on any other world, shone like gemstones. Twilight filled the hallways that were only beginning to be lit from within. It would have been an idyllic, classically Minbari scene, if not for the sound of several furious voices echoing through the halls.

"I have no reason to take orders from a murdering Centauri!" bellowed a voice easily recognizable as belonging to a Narn - if the tone and projection weren't good indicators, the content certainly was.

"Stop being ridiculous, I've never murdered anyone in my life," responded a voice with a refined Imperial accent. "Though if I had, I am sure it would have been at least as justified as it is now!"

"Minbari," muttered a third voice in disgust. "Only they would ever consider putting a Centauri and a Narn in the same room while ignoring the possibility of bloodshed." This third voice belonged to a Human, tall, gangly, and blond, who was leaning casually against one of the slanted Minbari beds and looking upon the fight with vague interest. He was, of course, ignored.

"This is an inexcusable affront," the Narn carried on furiously. "Someone must answer for this."

The Human shrugged vaguely, glancing up at the others. "It won't do any good. The Minbari think it's a wonderful idea to throw the lot of us into the same quarters. Think it builds character and understanding, or something."

The Centauri raised a pointed eyebrow. "And when, Master Hamilton, did you become the expert on Minbari?" Jacob Hamilton glared.

"I should think, _Master Virini_, that such things would be common knowledge," the Narn snapped back, fueled by this new ammunition. "But apparently the Centauri are not perceptive enough to pick up on these sorts of things."

As Corus Virini opened his mouth to snap back an appropriate reply, another voice from the corner interrupted, "I am sure you are all enjoying yourselves very much, but you have been at this for an hour now, and some of us would like to get some sleep before we are awakened at the crack of dawn."

"Oh come on, Barach," Hamilton said with a grin, "I was kind of hoping they'd murder each other before long, and we'd never have to deal with them again." The Drazi, who had, to the amazement of his roommates, somehow managed to balance himself comfortably on the diagonal Minbari bed, declined to answer.

"I don't see how it's possible to sleep on those things anyway," Corus muttered, irritated at not being able to cram in a last word. "Ridiculous contraptions."

"The Minbari believe that to sleep laying flat is to tempt death," Barach said without opening his eyes.

"How charmingly ethnic," Corus said, "but _we_ are not Minbari." Placing his hands on the top end of one of the other beds, he gave it a shove, and with an audible grinding of gears, it tilted down into a horozontal position. Corus raised an eyebrow and gave the others a smug look. "There, you see?" He sat down on the edge of the bed, swung his legs up, and laid down with his hands folded across his abdomen.

Barach continued to ignore the drama going on in the room. G'Len continued to glare. Jacob shrugged and leaned sharply on his own bed, knocking it horozontal as well. Just then, Corus' balance shifted, and the bed tilted diagonally again, throwing him on his head with a crash and an impressive display of Centauri profanity.

He scrambled to his feet moments later, hair crest moderately disarrayed, glaring around the room as if daring any of the others to speak. G'Len smirked slightly, making sure that Corus could see, and laid down carefully on his still-diagonal bed. Hamilton very carefully shoved his bed back into its original position, carefully not making eye contact. Corus couldn't tell if he was ashamed, embarrassed, or just about to burst out laughing.

Finally, when everyone else was lying on their beds, in positions that made them look both dead and seriously uncomfortable, but at least with their eyes closed, Corus leaned on his own, shoving it back into its original position. "Lights," he called out, laying down as they dimmed and preparing himself for a long, uncomfortable night.

His first day in Tuzanor had not started well.

**

Corus was up before anyone else, before the sun even began to rise over the crystalline horizon. He wandered about the room, possibly just a little more than he had to, possibly just a little more noisily than was necessary, feeling quite pleased with himself. One of the comments that had gone around once he'd let it become known at home that he was going to join the Anla'shok was how damned _early_ he'd be expected to be up, and here he was, awake long before everyone else. It was a petty victory, and a small one, but there it was. The uncomfortable bed certainly had nothing to do with it.

The Minbari apparently didn't approve of vanity, however - or perhaps they just didn't understand the travails of races with hair - for there was only one small mirror in the room. After dressing in the new Ranger robes he'd been provided with the day before, Corus touched up his crest the best he could, wondering again whether he should just cut the thing short and be done with it. He would have done before he even came to Minbar, except for his father's probable reaction. House Virini carried considerable weight, with one leader in the Royal Court and another just appointed Regent a few short months ago; any member of the House associating himself with the late Emperor Cartagia could have disastrous results. No one was quite sure what effect having a Ranger in the family would have, but that one they were more willing to risk.

There was a loud noise that sounded something like a body falling off a diagonal slab, followed by a Human curse from the room behind him, and in the mirror Corus could see the Narn sit up in surprise. He decided to ignore them both.

"Where's our introspective Drazi friend?" Hamilton's voice asked. That made Corus turn around - he'd been sure Barach had still been asleep when he'd gotten up, and he hadn't heard anyone since. But Hamilton was right - there were only the three of them in the room.

The door swished open and Barach entered, calmly ignoring the surprised and indignant stares of his roommates. "You should finish getting ready," he said offhandedly, reaching for his cloak. "There are Rangers out there escorting people around." This prompted a rapid scramble, mostly focused on the tiny bathroom adjoining their quarters. Amazingly, they were all reasonably prepared when the bell rang. Outside stood a tall male Minbari in full Ranger robes, isil'zha pin upon his shoulder. Corus looked in envy at the symbol of rank - none of the new trainees would wear the isil'zha until their training was complete, six months from now. The Minbari bowed formally, then turned and headed off down the hallway. The four trainees stood surprised for a moment, but then Hamilton shrugged and followed, and the rest trailed after.

**

Absolutely nothing about this had been what Corus had expected. Not, of course, that he had expected much, but what he had, had certainly not been this. He had not expected to have to share living quarters with a Human, a Drazi, and a Narn. He had not expected to be essentially isolated with said aliens, working almost exclusively with them, as Sech Turval had just assured them. And he had not expected to spend his first full day of training in an ancient Minbari ritaul. Though that, Corus thought wryly, might have been short-sightedness on his part.

"It is called _nath e'fa'an_," Sech Turval said with gravity, "a ritual of Awakening Knowledge. It has been used with the Rangers throughout their existence, and its origins predate Valen himself." Corus was impressed despite himself; he had done enough research on the Minbari to know that hardly any of their culture before Valen had persisted.

His interest began to wane, however, as Sech Turval began to describe the ritual itself. Incense, bells, chants, formulaic patterns...it was all very stereotypically Minbari.

He was jolted back into attentiveness when the Sech's voice was suddenly raised. "At the end," he said loudly, then paused, looking around at the four trainees who seemed to have been simultaneously awakened, before continuing, "of the ritually proscribed verse, you will state your name, your planet of origin, and what it is - " another pause, " - you serve." He stopped pacing and smiled obliquely, looking at the four of them in amusement and expectation, in a manner Corus had come to associate strongly with Minbari.

Corus frowned, confused and beginning to be frustrated by the entire discussion. Minbari ritual was one thing; redundant Minbari ritual was quite something else. "Isn't that what all the ritual verse is for in the first place?" he asked, and Hamilton turned and looked at him in shock. Corus pointedly ignored him.

Sech Turval raised an eyebrow, managing to look even more oblique than before. "That is for ritual, Anla'dra Virini," he said, using the title of "Ranger in Training" that seemed to be his own particular invention. "And although it is a thousand years old, it is still the truth - but it is not _all_ of the truth."

Corus blinked, wondering what in the universe that was supposed to mean. More pointless Minbari aphorisms, he supposed. Then he suddenly realized where his train of thought was going, and how much it sounded like his father and the rest of Centauri society which he had, in part, come here to prove wrong. The Centauri had always been adamantly certain that their culture was the only one with any real worth; Corus had always told himself that he believed differently.

Sech Turval seemed to sense the tension in the room; he broke Corus' internal narrative, saying, "The ritual will commence in two hours. You will be expected not to eat anything beforehand. I suggest you use the intervening time to practice your meditation - on your roles in the ritual, perhaps, among other things." That was about as obvious a dismissal as Corus had ever seen, and he rose, bowing respectfully to the elderly Minbari before leaving the room, his mind still teeming.

**

Corus knelt in meditation, hands folded, eyes closed, brand-new formal Ranger robes draped elegantly over his shoulders. He breathed slowly; in and out, in and out. He was sure he looked the perfect picture of Minbari calm. He was getting a crick in his back.

He opened one eye, peering around the room. It had been nearly half an hour since Sech Turval had sent the four new trainees off to meditate. For lack of anywhere else to go, they had returned, amid many angry, nervous, and resentful glances, to their communal quarters.

At least, initially they had. Corus' furtive perusal revealed that although G'Len was still seated to his right, Barach had disappeared, as had Hamilton. Leaving him alone with the Narn.

That shouldn't matter, he told himself firmly. They were both Anla'shok - well, Anla'dra, as Sech Turval had called them, Rangers in training - and as such were as one. Brothers. Corus could deal with that just fine. He simply wasn't sure it would matter to the Narn.

Trying to put it out of his mind, Corus closed his eyes again, working hard to concentrate on his meditation. He could still sense the Narn sitting next to him; he fancied he could feel the hate radiating in his direction. He tried to concentrate on turning inward, clearing his mind, as the Sech had described.

Images and phrases turned through his mind - Sech Turval introducing himself and offering a less-than-exemplary assessment of his new students; the sharp glares of Minbari Rangers; the scattered glimpses of the other new trainees that must be joining them - the Sech's words of that morning, it is not all of the truth.

Corus rolled this idea over and over in his mind, thinking about the rituals of Centauri protocol and what he knew of Minbari ritual. They weren't easy to reconcile - but then, the Centauri had never been nearly so concerned with Truth.

G'Len was still there.

This was getting him nowhere. Corus surged to his feet, grabbing his cloak as he headed out of the small, confining room in search of something a little more condusive to meditation. He wasn't entirely surprised to find it in the hallways themselves. He was unaccustomed to sitting for so long, and working out the cramps in his legs helped him think.

Besides, he was curious. The strict schedule and the implied orders to keep to themselves had meant that Corus had seen hardly anything of the city or even the Anla'shok buildings. He much preferred to know the layout of a place he was expected to live.

--What do you serve?--

The Minbari did ask the hard questions, didn't they? What was that supposed to mean, anyway? As a Centauri, he served his house and its interests, and secondarily the Centauri people... Somehow he didn't think that would be sufficient for the Minbari.

What did he serve? Well, by association with Centauri houses, he served honor, truth, justice...a veritable plethora of unapplicable, intangible ideas. Ridiculous.

What _did_ he serve?

The problem he hadn't anticipated with a change of scenery was the constant distraction. And, for that matter, the other Rangers. The ranks of fully-trained Anla'shok were still exclusively Minbari and Human, and in Tuzanor, they seemed almost entirely Minbari. Corus supposed that the Humans were probably out on the business of the new Alliance, as they were rather the heroes of the hour. But being around so many Minbari was discomforting, as much as he did not want it to be. 

And in addition, they certainly did not seem very welcoming. Until the past few days, Corus' contact with Minbari had been limited to the few Rangers on Centauri Prime, the Minbari ambassador, and the casual contact he'd had with them in his time on Babylon 5. They had seemed to be polite enough, then. Here they frequently looked at him with derision, and Corus felt decidedly as if he were considered to be invading their territory. Which he was, he supposed. Not that that made it any easier to accept. To avoid crossing paths with a particularly cross-looking Warrior Caste, Corus ducked into one of the small gardens scattered throughout the temple complex.

It was very small, and very quiet, and very Minbari. Lush foliage alternated with raked sand paths dotted with stones. Dominating the far site was a statue of Valen, staring forward with his hands raised, palms up. Kneeling in front of the statue was a Human figure in Ranger robes. Hamilton? Yes, it did seem to be. Corus was still trying to decide what to do about this when the temple bells chimed, calling them back to the ritual.

**

The room was dark and cold, and much larger than it needed to be. It had obviously been built for a time when the Rangers had been a much larger order. Corus felt a stab of nostalgia for a time he'd never known, a history that he was finally about to become a part of.

All the same, he was not comfortable here. Oh, he was probably more comfortable than the Narn. The Centauri had rituals something like this. But here, the incense was all wrong - darker, and more somber - and the format of the ritual made no sense to him. It was almost counter-intuitive, the way they jumped from action to verse and back, and Corus was beginning to be frustrated by it all.

They had ended up scrunched together to an appalling degree, from a wide circle with arms' length between them all, and were now standing nearly shoulder to shoulder. Corus stood with Barach on his right and an unfamiliar human on his left.

Sech Turval had told them that the ritual - and especially the ritual verse they had been expected to contribute - would make sense as they went along. Corus found his opinions of that gentleman dropping sharply.

Jacob Hamilton stepped forward, head held high and pride in his eyes. Idealist, thought Corus. How very Human.

"We come to serve the Anla'shok, we come to serve the Universe." Hamilton's voice was a little shakier than his posture. "I am Jacob Hamilton of Strasbourg, Earth; I come to serve history." 

"We come to draw a line against the darkness." G'Len was next; his voice was deep and rough and emotionless, everything Corus had come to expect from a Narn. "I am G'Len of Narn;" and there was pride there, certainly - "I come to serve my people." Corus supposed that there was nothing wrong with that in theory; after all, that was what they were all here for, weren't they? They had all come at the request of their governments. One simply didn't have to say it. It sounded so...self-involved.

"We offer up our lives, our minds, our souls in the service of the Light." Barach was completely unreadable, as Corus was beginning to understand was his usual position.. Corus didn't know much about the Drazi, but he was fairly sure that Barach was the exception rather than the rule. He just wasn't sure why. "I am Barach of Drazi; I come to serve."

Just that? And was that annoyance or approval in the Sech's eyes?

And then it was his turn, and he'd never been so nervous before about speaking so why was he now, and bloody _hell_ everyone was staring at him and by Zoog he hated this ritual. Ridiculous.

"We come to serve the Anla'shok; we come to serve the Universe. We come to draw a line against the Darkness." He could hear his voice grow stronger as he progressed through the ritual verse. "We offer up our lives, our minds, our souls in the service of the Light." It was a bunch of silly Minbari nonsense, of course, but it was _ritual_, even if he had only been familiar with it for less than an hour, and that helped. "We live for the One, we die for the One. I am Corus Virini, of Centauri Prime. I come to serve the future." And all that silly Minbari nonsense was clearly beginning to affect his mind. That was not at all what he had intended to say.

But that was what he had said, and the ritual was moving on as the next man began his verse. The insence was affecting him, certainly. Corus had expected that to be the end of it, but the Sech had begun speaking again, to the accompaniment of those little chimes. He tried to focus on what they were saying, but his expectation and his disappointment and the unfamiliarity of it all had set his mind reeling. Finally, although he had no idea how much time had actually passed, the ritual had ended, and they were filing out of the room. It was over - or rather, it had begun.

He was Anla'dra.


End file.
